A Taste of Midnight
by toestastegood
Summary: An alien attack, a new stalker for Jack and an assault on a vital employee leaves the Torchwood team with a fresh set of problems – especially when Ianto begins to develop a taste for human blood. [JackxIanto]
1. Chapter 1

_For so many years now, we hide in the darkness and watch. And want._

_He shines. Every inch of him glows with energy, with the life that we need – that we'll take. The world owes us this._

_Years. So many years of hunger and need._

_We gather. We draw our numbers to this place, to this empty spot on Earth. Cardiff; it shines with artificial light and runs with the blood of whores. We don't need that - we won't settle for it._

_Just him._

_His group of followers are nothing, are worthless. We'll use them if we need to._

_Licking our lips, we watch his vehicle approach and we listen to the rumble of his voice._

_We watch. We wait._

* * *

Ianto calmly parked the SUV at the side of the road and glanced out to the auction house to their left. Nothing out of the ordinary about it – well, nothing that he could gather. A brief background check into the building had revealed no questionable incidents in its past, before now. 

However, Torchwood had heard reports of odd sounds coming from it at night, and of a 'supernatural glow' shining from the windows. Considering that it had been closed and boarded up since long before WWII, Jack had decided that it was worthy of investigation.

"Is this it, then?" Gwen asked from where she was sitting in the back of the car. She leaned over to look out the window,

Jack and Ianto both glanced back at her, but Jack answered. "Looks like. It also looks empty."

"So did that Ritz place you went to with Tosh." Gwen pointed out, with a frown. She looked like she was having second thoughts about entering – Ianto could hardly blame her. Although it had been months since that event, it still wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on; in just a few hours he'd managed to lose Jack three times: once to the past, once to death, once to the Doctor.

That was over now, he reminded himself as often as possible. That was over.

Jack grinned though – the mention of his trip back to the 40s was apparently a pleasing one. "Yep. Don't worry, Gwen. You can stay here with Ianto, if you want," he said, before glancing to him. "We'll probably only be two seconds."

Ianto nodded even though he knew that, seeing as this was Jack, they'd probably end up spending hours in there. "I know." He smiled back at Jack, unable to do anything else when he was faced with that grin.

And when Jack kissed him, short and rushed, he wasn't able to do anything but give a lovesick sigh. Sometimes he really hated himself; he was surprised that Jack put up with anyone as soppy as he was quickly becoming.

"Wish us luck?" Gwen asked hopefully as she got out of the car.

Ianto glanced back at her again. "You won't need it, Gwen. It's probably just a few kids in there, messing around." He knew that he'd been known to do such things as a teenager, but his long and involved tale of teenage rebellion was a secret he was determined to take to his grave.

Gwen smiled hopefully at him, and then left the car with Jack. Ianto watched them wandering up the grey concrete steps and into the abandoned building - to get past the lock, Jack waved his latest toy at it. He'd had it since he came back from his 'travels'. Screwdriver, he called it; all Ianto knew was that it was nothing like any screwdriver he'd ever seen.

Once they were inside, Ianto glanced across the road to the corner shop, to the newspapers blaring headlines at him. "Tosh?" he asked, placing one hand on the headset by his ear. A second later and he had a distracted reply rushing to him. "_The Times_ or _The Guardian_?"

They liked to share the crossword at lunch.

Ianto took a quiet pleasure in being better at it than she was – but she always managed to win back her lost glory when they moved onto the Sudoku puzzles.

"Oh." There was a slight pause as she thought about it. "_The Times_. I feel like a challenge today."

"Don't get cocky, Tosh. I'll beat you one of these days." Ianto said as he stepped from the car. Sometimes back home, he found himself talking to midair as he forgot he'd left his headset at work. Jack would always make fun of him when that happened.

"If you say so." Tosh said smugly, as he closed the car door behind him and started to head across the road.

Smiling and frowning at the same time, Ianto decided he was going to get Jack to start helping him train.

* * *

The air in the auction house wasn't what you'd expect from a place that had supposedly been locked up for years. Dust didn't swirl and settle in your lungs, cloaking and smothering everything in its path. 

Instead, it felt alive. Jack could feel that the second he walked through the door – the sense that there was something here, something living, something hiding in the darkness. The building hummed with repressed energy.

Definitely intriguing.

Beside him, his colleague gave a small shiver. "I don't think I like this place." Gwen said in a whisper.

Jack shrugged, and took a confident stride over the wooden floorboards. He turned in a circle, arms open wide, and he knew that he looked a lot more comfortable than he felt. "Don't worry, Gwen. There's nothing here but ghosts." Actually, he reasoned as they delved deeper into the broad hallway, considering their profession that possibly wasn't as far-fetched as you'd think.

"Very funny, Jack." She rolled her eyes at him, but made sure to keep close. "You know what I meant."

Jack nodded, as he ran a hand over an ancient-seeming table; no dust. Ianto would be pleased. "Yeah, I know. Something doesn't feel right."

"Which is why we're here."

"Exactly."

"Investigating an old auction house that even Ianto says is empty?"

"Yep."

Gwen sighed and seemed to give up asking, which Jack was glad for. She could be extremely persistent when she set her mind to it; when it was directed at other people, he adored the trait. When it was focused on him, it made him want to run and hide.

The girl could be pretty damn terrifying sometimes – just like Rose.

They floated apart, even though from the looks of things it was just one large room; more of a warehouse than anything else. Jack could see the past so clearly, though. The bidding wars, the antique clothes, the impressive moustaches that must've graced this floor.

There was nothing now, though. Just an empty room and a creepy atmosphere. With a broad space like this and doors easily opened, the auction house would be a magnet for anyone looking for a place to spend the night. It didn't look like it had any security.

"Excuse me? What're you doing in here?"

Jack grimaced inside as he heard a strange voice from behind him. He'd obviously thought too soon about the lack of security.

* * *

Across the street, Ianto was a little too focused on flipping through the paper to notice that a stranger was approaching the auction house – glancing up only to ensure that he didn't get run down on his way back across the road, his attention was soon on the paper, trying to get a head start on Tosh. Perhaps that was cheating. 

She'd never know, so it was okay.

His ponderings on _3 down_ on the crossword was interrupted when he had a call coming in from Tosh. Pressing the button on his headset, he paused with his hand on the car door and a smile on his face. "Yes, Tosh?"

He had the feeling she was bored. Hardly surprising, considering that she was left back at the Hub with a pissed off Owen.

"Me and Owen were wondering if you guys could bring back lunch." Tosh asked hesitantly. Definitely an excuse to have someone other than Owen to talk to.

"Owen's still grouchy?"

He heard a sigh in his ear. "Yeah. Whatever Jack said must've _really_ pissed him off."

"He'll get over it." Ianto replied, but he vowed to ask Jack exactly what the pair had been talking about and if it was anything significant. Probably not, probably just Owen being difficult again, but it paid to be careful.

"I hope so. He's been acting off ever since Jack came back. It doesn't make sense."

"He's just defensive." Ianto shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. He couldn't find himself too concerned with Owen's mental state; despite his brief descent into madness with the weevils, Owen was a survivor through and through. "After all, he tried to kill Jack."

"Jack's forgiven him for that, though."

"That doesn't mean he's forgiven himself." Ianto said, his words heavy. He knew that burden all too well; Jack handed out his forgiveness as freely as his smiles. It became hard to take. He sighed before he could focus on that line of thought, and opened the door. However, the movement paused when he frowned and finally noticed that there was someone stalking up the steps in front of the auction house. "Tosh? I'll have to—"

His words cut off as someone grabbed him from behind; as a hand on the back of his head slammed his face onto the roof of the SUV. Ianto's forehead hit the hard metal with a dull clunk, pain instantly sparking through his body.

Through his earpiece, he could hear Tosh asking what was wrong, what was happening, what was going on, but her voice disappeared when the hand grabbed the headset and chucked it to the ground.

His head was slammed against the car again, leaving the world spinning uncomfortably around him. On the ground, the earpiece still squeaked and hissed with Tosh's voice before going dead.

He hissed with pain as his arm was yanked behind his back at an awkward angle, until he was absolutely certain that it was going to break – how would he be able to file with a broken arm?

The extra pressure wasn't applied to break it, but he was held in that position so that he couldn't move, couldn't squirm away without collapsing in pain. His still-unseen attacker managed to hold him in that position easily, using just one hand, and it wasn't long before Ianto had a fresh pain to cry out from: the quick and efficient cut on his bicep, a sharp knife slicing right through his shirt and skin.

* * *

It took just a split second for Jack to turn around to see the middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. Her face was pinched and stern, but he smiled anyway and reached for his badge – making sure just to flash it for a split second. No need to get anyone to ask what 'Torchwood' _was_ exactly; the answer was fuzzy, even to himself. 

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness; my colleague and I are investigating into some reports made about the building." Her face didn't soften with the words and it was hard to keep up his optimistic appearance in the face of that much misery, but he stepped forward to shake her hand anyway. Her hand felt like she'd just dipped it in ice.

"It's just vandals." she muttered, unhappy still with their presence.

Brimming with her ever-present concern and curiosity, Gwen stepped forward with her friendliest smile at the ready. "I know; that's what we've been thinking. Still, it doesn't hurt to check it out, does it?"

"Bloody waste of police time."

Jack didn't bother to contradict her, instead becoming distracted when his headset demanded his attention. A simple press of a button and he'd answered the call. "Yeah?"

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting: Ianto calling to say he was bored, Owen calling to demand food, or Tosh to say she'd finished her reports. Something bland. Something neutral.

Instead, Tosh's stressed voice flooded into his ear. "Jack? It's Ianto – something's happened to him, I don't know what. I think he's hurt."

That was all he had to hear before he was drawing his gun and heading for the door: rushing to the rescue.


	2. Chapter 2

_Human skin, human muscle, human bone – so weak, so fragile. They break with no effort._

_But that's not what we're here for. That's not the plan, however enjoyable it would be. Hold back. Hurt him enough, just enough, to make him cry out._

* * *

Ianto gasped for air as the blood started to run down his arm – a small cut shouldn't have hurt so much, especially when his arm was twisted back and he'd just had his head slammed onto the car, but it stung. 

The pain levels shot up again when his attacker made a sound – _was that a growl?_ – then grabbed his bicep. Right over the cut, he squeezed Ianto's arm hard. Ianto's eyes screwed closed and he gasped again, panting for air and strength desperately.

The pressure on his arm didn't relax, even as he struggled to break free. His attempts didn't seem to do a damn thing, other than piss the man off; the hand tightened.

Just as he was starting to wonder if he was going to spend the rest of his day like this, bent over a car with an anonymous stranger trying to squish his arm, he heard a voice yelling, a voice that had never sounded quite as sweet to him.

Jack.

About bloody time.

That American accent rang out strong, even if Ianto couldn't hear the words over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. A glance up told him everything that his ears couldn't understand: Jack, angry, with a gun. Get your head down.

He ducked, moving down as much as he could with the figure holding him like this, and two seconds later a series of gunshots sounded.

One. Two. Three. Four.

The hands holding him relaxed and the menacing presence thudded to the ground behind him. Ianto became vaguely aware that his hands were shaking, that he felt light-headed, that he might throw up. Working with Torchwood, he knew that he ought to expect to be attacked at any moment. He never adapted, though.

He stayed leaning against the car, even though now he was free to push away or turn around to see who – or, more likely, what – had attacked him. He just couldn't make himself move.

"Ianto?" Jack asked as he ran over. His breath was ragged, concern staining his voice, and as Ianto looked towards him he could still see a flicker of fear on their Captain's face.

He smiled shakily, trying to act like everything was fine. All in a day's work. This was no worse than Weevils. "I think my headset must be broken, sir," he said, glancing over to where it had been thrown to the ground.

Jack followed his gaze, his frown more confused than ever. "Never mind the damn headset – how're you? Are you hurt?"

Ianto's hand moved to his bicep, to the cut there. His shirt was stained with blood by now, he noted mournfully. That, along with the rip from the knife, meant that it was a complete lost cause. Shame. He'd liked that shirt.

"No, Jack," he said, painfully aware of how dazed his voice sounded. "I'm fine. Nothing serious."

"I'm going to get Owen to check you out anyway. Get in the car."

As Ianto did as he was told, he finally noticed Gwen checking out the body – dressed in normal clothes, it seemed like an ordinary person.

Ordinary if you could ignore the bullet wounds, that is.

He looked away quickly, trying to block the images of Lisa from his mind, and closed his eyes as he sat in car, waiting for Gwen and Jack to be ready to leave.

* * *

Once they were back in the Hub, Jack repeatedly told himself to calm down and relax. 

There was no need to panic, and no way of benefiting from it anyway. Ianto was fine. Owen had given him the all clear, had stitched up the cut on his arm, had confirmed that he didn't have a concussion but had ordered him to take the rest of the day off.

Ianto had refused. Stubborn asshole. He'd said he had a lot of work to do, that he couldn't afford to waste time like that.

Eventually, Jack had resorted to calling him through to his office, just to get him to sit down for a little while.

Sitting down had evolved to lying down which had in turn evolved to dozing peacefully. Jack kept checking in on him continuously, even though Gwen had given him her patented 'don't worry!' smile a thousand times now. He couldn't help it. If one of his team was attacked or injured, he had to find out why – and therefore find out how to protect them.

Forcing himself to stay still, he stood watching Owen working in the autopsy bay. On the table, a pale corpse was laid out for his attention. Ianto's attacker. Human-looking, but even then Jack couldn't feel guilty. He'd done what he had to.

Owen glanced up at him from where he'd been about to start his work, clearly fed up with being watched. "This is going to take a while. Shouldn't you be watching over your lap-dog?"

"He's sleeping."

"Good for him," Owen said with a long sigh. "But go and annoy someone else. I'm busy."

Jack ignored him, and just stared at the corpse instead. "Do we know what he is yet?"

Owen glared at him, and waved his unused scalpel. "I don't know yet, Jack. Maybe if you backed off for a few minutes, I'd actually be able to get around to finding out. As it is, you're just putting me off." Owen looked at him plainly, and gave a sigh. "Ianto's going to be fine," he stated, with the faintest twitch of a smile. "Now piss off. You're starting to make me nervous too."

Jack smiled and took a step backwards; Owen was being semi-nice. He didn't want to ruin that. "Alright, alright. I'll get out of your—"

He froze while backing towards the stairs, as a mark on the corpse caught his attention – caught it, held it, scared it.

Owen raised an eyebrow at the suddenly intense look on Jack's face, and just placed his scalpel down. "Bloody hell. What is it _now_?"

"That cut on his hand…" Jack said, moving forwards to get a look at it. Before, all he'd been able to see was the flash of red on the dead man's hand. As he approached the table, however, he was able to see it better: two cuts in the shape of a cross, right over his palm.

He frowned, an unsettling theory starting to work to the forefront of his mind.

"Owen? Run the blood work before you do anything else," he said, without taking his eyes off the slashed hand. It might not be what he was thinking – he certainly hoped not – but, just in case, he was going to get Ianto and take him home.

He wouldn't risk the rest of his team being near a potential danger like that.

* * *

Ianto was reasonably sure that he was going to throw up. 

Ever since Jack had gently woke him up in his office, Ianto had been feeling worse and worse. A glance in the mirror while Jack was driving him back to his apartment had confirmed that his skin was pale and clammy.

Once back home and lying down on his bed, curled in on himself, he'd barely noticed the way Jack stuck around. He slipped in and out of consciousness, around dreams that hissed at him. Time drifted past vaguely.

His eyes snapped open when he felt hands on him; alarmed, he initially tensed up, before he realised that the gentle grip was designed to heal not harm. It wasn't another attack.

"It's okay, Ianto. Just me; I need to take a look at that cut of yours. You don't mind, right?" Jack whispered. Even quiet like that, his voice echoed _too loud_ in Ianto's head. He murmured his agreement and closed his eyes again as Jack curiously peeled back the dressing that Owen had covered it with.

He was asleep once more long before Jack started to make low worried sounds under his breath.

When Ianto woke up, the first thing he noticed was how empty he felt – how hungry.

The heat from his apartment pressed in around him, clawing at his body. His bones ached, his limbs screamed, his head was heavy. He felt so much worse than he ever had, even when he'd caught the flu as a kid.

He rolled over to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. Jack wasn't in the room, but he could hear him – in the next room. Reading. Writing. Ianto could hear the soft turning of pages, occasionally interrupted by the scratching of a pen against paper.

He could _hear_ it.

Even as that struck him as odd, as mildly terrifying, he stood up from the bed. His vision spun, causing the room to seem to jerk around him. He reached out to hold onto the bottom of the bed to keep himself upright. Under his strong grip, he could hear the vague sound of wood starting to splinter.

Ianto was slowly coming to the conclusion that something was quite extremely wrong.

He pushed away from the bed, bare feet brushing over the carpet. Each footstep caused a noise that hammered into his head and made him wince, but he wanted Jack right now.

Moving through the door, he paused and smiled when he saw Jack sitting on the couch. He had a collection of ancient looking books spread around him, an open notepad on his lap and on the desk in the corner, Ianto's computer was switched on. He looked busy.

Ianto stayed smiling and moved forward regardless. Each step seemed to make him feel better, more alive, the pain in his joints fading to a more manageable level.

He shifted some of the books to the side, a movement that caused Jack to startle and notice his presence. He regained his composure quickly and smiled at him, but there was still something wrong about Jack's expression.

He looked frightened.

Ianto watched his, amused though he wasn't sure why, then sat down next to him in the space he'd cleared of books. Jack didn't move, but he tensed up like he wanted to. Frowning and definitely not amused any more, Ianto tried to work out what he'd done wrong. "Jack?"

Jack determinedly set his eyes on the book again; his face froze over, tight and controlled. That was the face he had when he had to use that gun of his. Ianto's stomach churned painfully.

"I thought you were in bed?" Jack said without looking up.

Ianto nodded, before he shifted on the couch. His legs drew up so that his feet were no longer on the floor, and he leaned against Jack's shoulder. His eyes closed, still dizzy and still nauseous, even though Jack's presence and warmth helped so much. "I was," he admitted. "But, as you'd neglected to tie me down there, I was also able to get up and come to find you."

Jack smiled hearing that, and glanced away from his book for a split-second. "So, you're saying I should just start tying you to the bed from now on?"

"I certainly wouldn't object to the notion."

"I bear that in mind, then."

That was all Ianto got before Jack's attention was stubbornly returned to his book. Hiding his frustration behind a carefully neutral expression, Ianto kissed Jack's shoulder through the material of his shirt. It wasn't meant to mean anything or start anything, but Jack tensed up again immediately.

Trying not to take any of this to heart, Ianto moved to unbutton Jack's shirt. He'd never known Jack to actually stay focused on work when there were other more pleasurable activities on offer. The trait was usually a dangerous annoyance. In this instance, however, Ianto wanted it back.

"Ianto? I would really love to stop and do this with you," Jack said with a smile that just felt fake. Ianto's hand paused, having only succeeded in getting rid of two shirt buttons so far. "But I have some important work to do. You go back to bed. I'll join you later, I promise."

"Sir, is the world ending?" he asked curiously, fingering the blue material. He stared at it, and at the brief flash of tanned skin, so that he didn't have to look at Jack's face.

Jack chuckled and shook his head. "No, nothing like that."

"Then what's going on? I can help."

"You're sick."

Ianto sighed, and looked up at Jack. He still felt bad, and the room felt far too hot, but he was fine. He wasn't ill. He didn't allow himself to become ill. It was impractical.

"I'm fine, Jack." His hand crept down to undo another button. Jack didn't protest, but he frowned. That was okay. Ianto could work around Jack's frowns quite easily. "Perfectly fine. You worry too much."

"I do?"

"Owen says so." Ianto smiled and gently plucked Jack's book from his hand. He leaned over to close it and place it on the coffee table, before looking back to Jack. "And we both know that he's a world-class authority on such matters."

"I know," Jack said. He smiled apologetically, and that felt more real, more natural. "I'm not worrying 'too much', believe me. I'm worrying just enough."

"What about?"

"I'll tell you when I'm sure."

"I thought you said you were going to drop the enigmatic act?" Ianto had adored that promise; the idea that, now Jack had ran off and ran around with the Doctor and got it out of his system, that they might actually get some answers around here. It appeared that that wasn't going to be the case.

"I am. I have. I just don't know exactly what's going on. When I know," he said, and paused to kiss Ianto quickly, "You'll be the first one I tell."

After finishing with the buttons on Jack's shirt, Ianto slipped the material and his braces from his shoulders. They weren't at work and he didn't want to be – he wanted to be here, with Jack.

Unfortunately, he was quickly getting the impression that Jack didn't want to be here with him.

Shifting on the couch, he was soon able to run his tongue along the ridge of Jack's collarbone, able to taste him there so strongly. It was intoxicating, more so than it had ever been before. He licked that one spot again- again- again.

The sensation made Jack smile and laugh under his breath, eyes closing slowly, so Ianto knew that he'd won him over for now. He intended to make the most of the time that he had Jack's full attention, because it was likely to switch back to his research soon.

With that in mind, he straddled Jack's waist; so that he'd be the one thing Jack could see until he was done. No papers, no books, no research. Just them.

Jack stayed smiling, and his hands stroked down Ianto's sides until they rested lightly on his hips. "You're a brat when you want to be, Ianto."

Ianto shrugged with one shoulder – he couldn't exactly defend himself against that. "I'm used to getting what I want."

"I can tell."

Ianto leaned down, kissing the hot skin of Jack's shoulder. The contented sigh Jack gave was intoxicating, but _everything_ was. He could hear Jack's breathing, taste the faint brush of sweat on his skin, feel his—

His pulse. Feel his pulse.

Right beneath his lips, beating strong. Ianto followed that beat up until he reached Jack's neck. He just brushed his lips along the skin, but that was enough to let him feel it.

Amazing. He sucked on that pulse point, delighted with the life that ran through Jack's veins, just under the skin. There was so much of it.

Beneath him, Jack seemed to tense again as Ianto lingered too long at his neck. His muscles froze up from where they'd slowly relaxed, and he flinched away.

"Ianto?" he said – his voice sounded stern now, steel threading through it. Cautious, restrained, but there was a heavy threat of violence there. Ianto hadn't heard that tone directed at him since the events with Lisa. He didn't enjoy hearing it again now. "I think you need to leave now. Go through to your room. Close the door. Don't come out until I say it's safe."

In response to his leader's commands, Ianto growled against his neck. He _growled_, a low-down rumble deep in his throat, and kept his mouth where it was. There was no reason not to.

He pulled back only slightly to lick one long line up Jack's neck, the taste rolling over his tongue. "You taste good, sir."

"Glad to hear it. Now get off of me."

The words didn't register.

He heard them; he processed them; he didn't react. When Jack tried to push him off, he held him down effortlessly, with strength that came from nowhere. He held Jack still as easily as his attacker had this morning.

But his mind wasn't occupied with any of that. All he could think of was the blood, the life, running right under Jack's skin. So real. So powerful.

He scraped his teeth gently over the skin and ignored the way that Jack jerked underneath him, trying to get away. It was easy to hold him still. It was even easier to close his eyes and bite down – breaking the skin.

When the first rush of blood entered his mouth, Ianto couldn't help but give a satisfied moan.


	3. Chapter 3

_The body rots around us, but we live on. Inside. Inside the Hub, the work place. Access all areas._

_The doctor moves around us. His equipment clanks, metal on metal, but we don't feel it as he cuts into this body – this shell. Nothing more. Meat and bones. Blood and water._

_We work without life. Without this heart, without these lungs, with his bullets littering this carcass. It's not important._

_He is._

_So let his doctor cut us, examine us. Let the police-woman form her theories and research into our shell's background. Let them do as they will – it doesn't matter._

_Only he does._

* * *

God, it was good. The life flowing into his mouth, tingling, sparkling, so incredibly strong. Beneath him, Jack was making such beautiful noises as he struggled, contained grunts and pained moans. Ianto held him still as if it were nothing, even as he tried to push him away, but it was delightful to feel that struggle.

But soon the struggles started to slow. They weakened. The sounds faded. As blood dribbled down from Ianto's chin, he could feel the pulse that pumped it growing steadily weaker, weaker, weaker.

With a small, yet rational, part of his mind starting to fight for control again, Ianto pulled back. He stepped away so that he was no longer straddling Jack like he had been, but his eyes stayed trained intently on him.

He didn't move.

Shit, he didn't move.

"Sir? Jack?" Ianto said; his voice shook and trembled with the words. No response. The mark on Jack's neck was red and ugly, the blood starting to congeal on his skin. In his mouth, Ianto could taste the too strong tang of metallic blood.

What had he done? What had he _done_?

"Jack?" he repeated, and this time he reached out to shake Jack's shoulder; still no response. Jack's eyes stayed closed, his skin pale.

It was okay, he assured himself. Jack was fine – Jack could survive bullet wounds and face-offs with life-sucking aliens. One bite wasn't going to kill him.

But he didn't look well, and Ianto had to wonder why the hell he'd bitten him in the first place. What had he been thinking? The taste in his mouth turned as revolting as it had been wonderful just seconds before. None of this made any sense.

His eyes widened as Jack stirred in front of him, with a pained groan as the bite on his neck quickly healed and vanished.

"Oh god, Jack," Ianto murmured as he stepped forwards again, to sit on the couch next to him. He held onto one of Jack's hands lightly, clinging onto it. "Jack, you're okay? You're okay. Of course you are – just being a drama queen, as always." He tried to smirk, but he was fairly sure that he failed.

Jack's eyes blinked open, foggy at first but quickly gaining clarity, quickly remembering what had happened. "'nto?" he mumbled.

Ianto smiled and stroked his fingers lightly over the back of Jack's hand. "I'm here, don't worry."

Jack frowned and instantly became alert, every muscle in his body tensing up. Two seconds later, Ianto lost consciousness as Jack slammed the table lamp hard onto his head. Ianto didn't even have time to register the pain – his body went limp and slumped against the couch.

* * *

Owen raised an eyebrow as the door to the Hub slid open and his boss charged in. 

And, alright, Jack charging about the place wasn't exactly unusual. He had an annoying habit of doing it, always acting like he was going somewhere extremely important. That wasn't the weird bit.

The weird bit was that he had Ianto slung over his shoulder.

An unconscious Ianto.

An unconscious Ianto with a head wound and dried blood over his face.

Yep, that was pretty weird.

He stepped away from his desk, pretending that he hadn't just been skiving off doing the actual autopsy, and moved over to where Jack seemed to be heading determinedly across the Hub. "What's happened now?"

Jack looked up at him, out of breath from carrying Ianto who knew how far. "He attacked me."

Owen smirked. "He attacked you? Looks kinda like it was the other way around."

"He killed me."

Christ, Owen was never going to get used to that 'my boss is an immortal' crap. Sure, he was grateful for it, seeing as it stopped him from being a murderer and it was nice to see the guy wandering around in one piece, but it was fucking strange.

"Long story. I'll explain later," Jack promised, still moving. "In the meantime, help me get him into one of those cells. I don't know what he'll be like when he wakes up."

Owen stepped forwards to open the door to the cells for Jack, while trying not to wonder how Ianto was going to react when he woke up to discover he was being treated like one of the Weevils. From the sounds of things, though, this was the least of their troubles.

They were greeted with the tell-tale snarls from the other occupants of their cells as they stepped inside, but both he and Jack had learned a long time ago to ignore it. As Jack started to place Ianto in one of the empty cells, he looked accusingly towards Owen. "Have you run the blood sample from the body yet?"

Owen took a breath, letting it out slowly, and decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Jack that they'd all just been pissing around since he left. Gwen and Tosh had gone home an hour or so, and he'd spent that hour making prank calls.

Yeah, Jack wouldn't be impressed by that.

He shrugged lightly. "It's on my to-do list."

Jack rolled his eyes and carefully set Ianto down on the uncomfortable bed in the cell. The place stank, blood and urine and some even more unpleasant scent that Owen could never identify. "Get on it, now. And I'll need you to take a sample from Ianto as well."

"You think you know what's going on?"

"I have a theory or two." Jack didn't offer any more information, and stayed crouched by the bed in Ianto's cell. Owen decided not to bother asking – hopefully, these tests Jack was ordering would reveal everything.

If they didn't, he thought as he backed away to go and find a needle, he was probably going to lose his mind.

* * *

Only half an hour later, Ianto slowly began to stir. He didn't particularly want to; his head hurt, his surroundings stank, and he was lying on something extremely hard and uncomfortable. Whatever he was about to wake up to couldn't be good.

He forced himself to open his eyes anyway, to look around and try to work out what had happened.

Quickly, the bad lighting and stained walls of the Hub's cells filled his vision. He sat up gradually, with his head throbbing from where Jack had hit him.

Jack had hit him. With a lamp. On the head. That was a new development in their odd little relationship, wasn't it? Still, Ianto couldn't blame Jack at all – he could still taste blood in his mouth.

He swung his legs over to touch the ground, but stayed sitting on the bed. He breathed slowly, determinedly telling himself not to panic, but soon felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Someone was watching him.

He glanced to the side, through the mucky glass front of the cell, and was able to see Jack standing there. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and a severe expression on his face, but he was there. He was alright. Ianto hadn't done anything permanent.

Standing up, he was soon stepping forwards, closer to the glass. "Jack? What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Ianto sighed, and placed a hand against the glass. "I'm trapped in a cell, sir. I'd think it's a fair guess to say that _something_ is wrong."

Jack smiled, arms staying crossed, and he looked down at the ground. "Owen's running some tests for me now. I think I might know what's wrong with you, but I don't want to say anything until I'm sure."

"Please?"

"I don't want to worry you unless it's absolutely needed," Jack said. He looked up to watch Ianto, concern so clear in his eyes. Whatever was going on here, Ianto realised, it was big.

He tried to reassure himself by pointing out that everything was big in Torchwood. Everything was life-threatening and the world was always ending. Nothing to fret about.

And yet he couldn't stop his pulse from racing or those dark thoughts from forming.

"Just tell me. Otherwise I'll only sit here and come up with wild theories until you decide to let me out."

Jack placed his own hand against the glass, mirroring Ianto's, and if this wasn't quite so serious then Ianto might have smiled at the sight of that action, might have teased Jack for how clichéd and rom-com it was. Instead, his heart just kept racing and he couldn't get rid of the black thoughts that told him that this was it – now he was Lisa, he was Mary, he was one of the thousands of alien threats that they faced daily. Jack couldn't meet his eyes.

Any further conversation and any slim chance of him winning any answers were ruined when the door opened and Owen popped his head through. "Jack? Think you'd better come and look at this," he said gravely, giving Ianto a look that screamed with mistrust.

Jack nodded, glancing to Owen for just a few moments before his attention landed back on Ianto. "Don't worry – I take care of my team. Always," he promised, before he turned to walk out of the cells with Owen.

Ianto watched them go, and tried desperately not to be afraid.

* * *

Jack closed the door behind him, and closed his eyes for just a few moments. He tried to gather himself – his thoughts, his strength, his resolve; everything he'd need to get through this.

He was used to this, he told himself. He'd been through so many adventures and had had so many close scrapes that he was used to this. Nothing new. Nothing to be scared of.

But it was – because this was Ianto, this was someone he knew intimately, this was someone he _had_ to save.

When he opened his eyes again, Owen was several paces ahead of him, across the Hub. His face was caught in a deep frown, but there was an interested glint in his eyes, the glint of a scientist who couldn't wait to prod and poke around to find out what was wrong.

"Did what you said, and I put the blood samples under the microscope. Some fucking weird things are showing up, though. Looks like they've both got some sort of virus in their blood."

Jack felt his heart sink with every word, but he still followed Owen across the Hub, even though he knew for certain what he'd encounter when he got there. He'd faced these things before – and it wasn't fun, and what they could do to people was not pretty.

"It's not anything like any virus I've ever seen before, right? Bloody— Well, you'll see."

Their footsteps fell heavily on the ground as they hurried across the Hub to the microscope that Owen already had set up. Once they arrived, he waved vaguely at it. "Go on, have a look."

Jack was quite tempted to turn him down, refuse to face this again, and just walk out. However, he knew that allowing this to spread wasn't an option, so he stepped forwards. Owen loitered noisily by his elbow, clearly eager to work out what the resident time-traveller in the Hub thought of this new discovery of his. Full of trepidation, Jack leaned forwards to look through the microscope.

Through it, he could see a regular blood slide – odd little red cells dotted about lazily, the small cells that carried life. Immediately, though, he recognised the abnormality that had Owen so intrigued.

In among the regular cells, there was a second being. Dozens of tiny silver blobs, single-celled organisms that floated and moved harmlessly between the red blood cells.

"That's the sample I took from Ianto," Owen said, leaning against the desktop. Jack pulled back from the microscope, not wanting to look at this any more as reality came crashing back to him. He watched as Owen swapped the slides, putting a separate one in. "And this is the one I took from the dead guy – look at the difference."

Jack nodded and stepped forwards again, but he already knew what he was going to see: destruction. In the second slide, the minute beings from the slide of Ianto's blood had grown, had attacked. They'd ripped into the red blood cells surrounding them, leaving no clear cells to be seen on the slide, just red carnage.

"See that? It's like those things have gone all Dawn of the Dead on the corpse. You should see the rate he's decomposing at. I've never seen a virus like this, Jack."

"It's not a virus," Jack said quietly. He stepped away from the microscope again, trying frantically to think of a solution. He was the leader. He needed to have a plan, but his mind was blank.

Owen was watching him, though, wanting more of an explanation than Jack could give him. When Jack didn't immediately fill him in with every single detail, he seemed to decide to prompt him. "It looks like a virus to me."

"Well, it's not. I've encountered those things before."

"Uh-huh?" Owen said, still leaning back against his desk. "Care to share the details?"

Jack knew that he had to, and knew that he'd have to repeat it to Ianto, and then again to Gwen and Tosh when they reappeared tomorrow. Really, though, he'd rather not talk about it. He'd rather that this wasn't happening, and that Ianto wasn't both at risk and a threat to them all at the same time.

"When I was travelling, me and the Doctor ran into a colony on one of the far-flung planets. I can't even remember the name of it, but… Like you said, Dawn of the Dead – bodies everywhere, people attacking each other, ripping their own friends apart limb from limb. By the time we got there, almost everyone was already dead.

"'Course, being dead doesn't stop these things. Not at first, anyway. They drink human blood, but if they don't get fresh stuff every day or so, they turn on their host. You see that slide?" he asked, pointing to the microscope, still lit up. Owen glanced towards it briefly, and nodded. "Imagine having that happen to you while you're still alive. Something inside you, in your blood, eating you from the inside out."

Owen didn't say anything, but his jaw clenched and Jack was almost certain that he saw the vaguest shiver run through him. Good – he at least understood how serious this was.

"While we were there, they… They got fixated on me." He paced a few steps away, not wanting to have to remember this. They'd nearly lost Martha there, because of him. The Doctor had managed to save both of them, as always, but that wasn't the point. "I can't die, so I was more or less a permanent food source. That's something attractive on a planet with a quickly dwindling population."

"Nice story – well, no. _Gross_ story and all, but how'd the hell they end up here? And in Ianto? 'cause, dunno about you, but I think I'd like to put an end to it right about now. Y'know, before we get to the stage where Ianto decides to rip us all apart?"

"I know. I'll figure something out, I promise. It's spread by blood-on-blood contact, so just be sure not to get their blood near any open cuts." Jack placed his hands on his hips and thought, still searching blindly for a solution. Owen nodded, and looked extremely relieved that for once he'd been smart enough to follow regulations and wear his plastic gloves.

Jack frowned and ran a hand over his neck, over the healed patch of skin that had been the not-so-proud owner of a bite mark under an hour ago. "I can feed him until we come up with a better solution," he said quietly, unsure about that – but he'd do whatever he had to. Ianto was part of the odd family they had here. He'd do anything to watch out for him.

Owen's eyebrows rose, but he nodded slowly. "If you're sure."

"'Course I'm not sure. But right now, there's no other option," Jack shrugged, attempting to talk himself into believing that everything would work out fine. It usually did, for him.

All the same, his smile was less than genuine as he backed away from Owen, retreating down to the cells in an attempt to explain everything to Ianto.

* * *

After being hit with that bizarre explanation, and released from his cell, Ianto had gone straight home – abandoning all the tasks at the Hub that still demanded his attention. It would have been impossible to stay, though.

He was a threat. Even if Jack smiled confidently and assured them that they were going to fight this, that everything was going to be fine, he didn't care.

Last night, he'd _killed_ Jack. So what if Jack was immortal? So what if he hadn't been in control of his actions? It could've been Gwen, could've been Tosh – could've been one of the Cardiff's random strangers, one of the very people they existed to protect.

Jack had been trying to call all day, but Ianto had refused to pick up and had eventually disconnected the phone. Now he lay curled on the couch, sweat starting to form in beads on his forehead. It was dark outside again, revealing that it had been almost a day since he'd first attacked Jack like that.

Almost a day. He wondered what everyone at work had been saying, what the gossip had sounded like. It was almost enough to make him wish he was there, just for the painful pleasure of watching conversations quickly die the second he entered the room.

But his limbs were starting to ache and burn again, just like the previous night, and he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. He could tell that there was something wrong with him, and it wouldn't take a genius to guess that it was to do with this… thing. This virus, or alien, or whatever the hell it was. Jack had been so vague.

The basics had slipped into his mind though. He rolled over on the couch, giving a pained groan as he clutched his stomach.

Blood-drinking. Vampire. Jack hadn't used those words exactly, but it was clear enough in Ianto's mind. And he'd watched enough stupid horror movies to know that vampires weren't good.

He took a sharp gasp of air as pain shot up his arm, spreading fire-fast through his veins. God, this was too much. His eyes screwed shut, and he could hardly breathe from it. He hadn't known agony like this before, like his body giving up on him, organs failing.

As the pain continued and he could feel tears welling in the corner of his eyes, a loud thumping started at the door. He groaned at it, because the sound cut deep into his brain.

Yet, there was a well-trained part of his mind that couldn't hear someone at the door and not respond. He wished that he could, that he could just place a pillow over his head and suffer in silence, but that wasn't an option. It never was.

He reluctantly got to his feet and crossed the room, with his shirt untucked and creased, the belt of his trousers long since abandoned, and his shoes lying haphazardly on the ground, leaving him only in his socks. He hadn't been expecting visitors.

He should have known, he supposed as he felt a vague glow as he opened the door, that he wouldn't have been able to get rid of Jack just by not answering his calls.

"You had me worried, Ianto," Jack said, smiling as he stepped past into the apartment, even though he hadn't been invited. Ianto closed the door behind him and turned around. He brushed a hand over his forehead, feeling it damp there. "You weren't picking up – I thought you might be dead."

Jack's tone was light and that smile had stuck to his face, but Ianto got the impression that he wasn't just being flippant; he'd genuinely been worried.

"Sorry. I wasn't feeling up to conversation."

Jack nodded knowledgeably, and gestured towards the couch for Ianto to lie down again. The cover from Ianto's bed had been dragged through here, thankfully covering the bloodstain from last night. He didn't need to be reminded of what had happened any more than he had to.

"I can see that – you look awful." Jack sat down at the end of the couch, and Ianto slowly moved back to his lying position, tentatively placing his head on Jack's lap. Every movement burned, but he let out a relaxed sigh once he was lying again.

Jack's fingers curled in his hair, softly stroking the dark strands. Ianto smiled a little, to himself. "Thanks, sir."

"You're welcome." Ianto could hear the answering smile in Jack's voice, and his fingers didn't stop threading through his hair like that. "You know what's wrong with you, right?"

Ianto cringed slightly, he wanted to demand that Jack didn't talk about it, that they just avoided the subject entirely. He just wanted to _sleep_, and with Jack here like this the pain seemed to have lessened considerably. "Jack…"

"You need to feed."

"I have," Ianto insisted. "I had a sandwich an hour or so ago."

"That's not what I meant."

Ianto knew that, but he kept his eyes closed and didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't going to do this. Jack had brought up his insane plan while Ianto was still being kept in the cells. He'd explained the whole thing, and it was ridiculous. Ianto wasn't going to use the man he was gradually learning to love as food. Jack was so much more than that.

"Please, Ianto," Jack said quietly. His hand moved from Ianto's hair to brush his fingers over his cheek instead, feather-light and pleading. "It's going to get worse if you don't. I've seen it happen."

"Then you can see it again." Ianto frowned, and tried not to think of how much he sounded like a bratty child. "I won't hurt you. Not after last night."

"I'm fine."

"But you weren't. You were dead – and if you were anyone else, you'd still be dead."

"Which is why you have to do this. I can survive it. You're not gonna hurt me permanently; a bit of physical pain then it's over. That's easy. But if you don't do this…" The words hung poignantly in the air, uncompleted but perfectly clear.

"I won't," Ianto said, gritting his teeth. Jack's hand had stopped all movement now, his body tense.

It brought back memories of last night, of Jack struggling underneath him – and, god, right now those memories were the best things Ianto could think of. They made his mouth water, they distracted him from the all-over pain and the dilemma that Jack was insisting on presenting him with.

Such a sweet, tempting dilemma.

"I won't do it," he repeated, hoping that airing the words again would make them true, would make them fact, would make them real. "I won't."

"You'll die."

"I won't become a monster."

"And I won't lose you," Jack snapped, and Ianto wished he wouldn't. He wished that they could just sit here quietly, in silent bliss, while his body burned and broke apart without him. "Don't make me, Ianto. Don't you _dare_ make me."

"Sorry," he whispered quietly in return. He opened his eyes briefly, just long enough to search out Jack's other hand, reach out, and hold it lightly. His breath shuddered – because the movement hurt, so much that it threatened to make him start crying. "It'll be okay."

"No. It won't," Jack said bluntly.

Right now, Ianto could really believe that things weren't ever going to be 'okay' again.


	4. Chapter 4

_It's time. _

We've waited too long.

Need him. Travelled so far, worked so hard – we've earned this.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's the day. Tomorrow's our time.

He's distracted, he's lost, he's weak.

He's ours.

* * *

Ianto was shaking, involuntary tremors running through his limbs, and Jack should have been worried out of his mind. Instead, he sort of wanted to punch him, repeatedly.

There was a cure for this right here, pulsing through his body, and yet Ianto refused it. Ianto had continued to refuse it for the past hour, despite Jack's repeated and varied attempts to get him to give in. Ianto probably thought he was being noble – to Jack, he was just being annoying.

Blood donation. People did it all the time; he was fairly sure that Gwen would be a blood donor, she seemed the type. How was this any different?

It wasn't, but it was apparently something that Ianto was willing to kill himself for. Jack was fed up of trying to persuade him. He was fed up of Ianto trying to pretend like he was some sort of hero.

Jack was fed up with all of it; the sound of Ianto taking a short pained breath, hissing in through his teeth, just drove that point home.

"Ianto, please…" he whispered quietly – but he'd never been good at begging outside of the bedroom.

Ianto smiled, shaky pain clear even through that forced expression. "I know it's not like you to give up, Sir, but you're starting to get on my nerves." His voice trembled; Jack could hear the strain he was under and it wasn't _fair_.

And this was stupid. He'd learned long ago not to expect fairness from life. Why start now? If Ianto died, the world would go on without him. In the scheme of things, it wouldn't matter.

As Ianto groaned in agony after shifting just a tiny amount, Jack knew that it mattered to him, even if it didn't to the rest of the world.

"I'm going to get you a painkiller. Or something," he said, whispering quietly as he knew there was something odd going on with Ianto's senses as well. Too strong, too different. Whispering helped.

Ianto's eyes stayed closed, but he managed to move his head slightly, in a gesture Jack thought was possibly a nod. "Cupboard above the sink."

Jack stroked his hand through Ianto's hair one last time, and then he slipped away from where Ianto's head had been rested on his lap. "Back soon," he promised.

A short walk took him through the rooms of the apartment, which already felt sterile and empty. Ianto was fading fast, life slipping away as those creatures inside him used his body, his blood, his life – and all Jack was doing was sitting around watching. Pathetic.

A fumble for the light-switch made the strip-lighting in the kitchen flicker on and Jack could remember the first time he stood in this room. It was after Lisa, Ianto standing awkwardly in that cute little suit of his, uncomfortable conversation passing between them.

As Jack recalled, that night had ended with sex on the kitchen table; he doubted if tonight would work out the same way. At the most, he'd just hope for a happy ending.

Moving mechanically, hardly thinking about it, he grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water, before starting to hunt down the painkillers Ianto had mentioned. Aspirin, probably. Wouldn't help much: he really did hate 21st century medicine. Not a single nanogene in sight, though, considering his old WWII fiasco, though, that was probably a good thing.

Water poured and pills fetched, he froze before leaving the kitchen: there was a knife on the counter.

Bread-knife, he'd guess, with a black plastic handle but a temptingly sharp blade. You could do a lot of damage with a knife like that, even if Ianto had just been using it to make himself some food.

A _lot_ of damage.

Glancing back at the door that would lead him through to the living room and back to Ianto, Jack only took a few seconds to consider the type of damage that would be most useful to all of them, to all of his team, and especially to Ianto. He placed the glass and pill bottle down on the counter and approached the knife instead.

He picked it up from the counter, surprised by how light it was, and took a breath. He could do this – he had to. Looking down at his arm, he tried to work out where exactly would be the best place to cut. Ianto had gone for his neck last night, but he really doubted if it was his best idea ever to take a bread-knife to his neck.

Settling on halfway up his lower arm, knowing that would bleed enough but not too much, he shifted his hold on the knife to give him a firmer grip. Nothing left now but to do it, he thought as he placed the knife against his skin, pressing it down but not breaking the skin.

He steeled himself, he got ready for this – then he sliced the knife across the skin in one fluid drag. The pain took a few seconds to hit but he grit his teeth and refused to make a single sound as that stinging pain started and the blood began to run.

Throwing the knife back to the counter, he walked forwards quickly, blood flowing freely. There was a lot more than he'd anticipated, but that could be a good thing. Anything that would tempt Ianto was a _very_ good thing.

Opening the door to the living room quickly, his hand immediately went back to pressing on the cut to stop the free flowing blood; no point in wasting any before he was there.

As he entered, several red streams starting to run out of the wound and over his skin, Ianto slowly pushed himself up on the couch, shaking his head. The movement had to have hurt, Jack knew that, but it didn't show on Ianto's face. All that did was horror, his eyes wide and staring.

"Jack?" he asked quietly. "You said you were just going to get painkillers."

"Yeah," Jack said, and shrugged as he walked forward. "Figured this would help a lot more."

Ianto shook his head again, and Jack got the impression that he would have stood up and ran out of the apartment if he had the strength for it. That one reason at least to be glad that he was already breaking out in a sweat.

"I said I wouldn't," Ianto repeated firmly.

"And I said you would. End of story." Jack sat down, and ignored the way that Ianto backed off a few inches. He looked towards him and plainly said, "I'll hold you down if I have to."

Ianto glared at him, breathing heavily. His eyes were blood-shot but kept glancing down to the bleeding wound on his arm, as if entranced by it. That was a good sign, Jack told himself, even though slowly being looked at as if you were food was mildly alarming.

When Ianto didn't make another move, Jack decided that it was time to take things even further, even though he hadn't thought that would even be necessary. He glanced away from Ianto and down at his arm, running his thumb over some of the spilt blood. Once it was stained red, he looked up again, to where Ianto was still watching him, eyes still wide – but it wasn't just terror in them now, some odd mix of fear and lust and hunger.

Taking his blood-dipped thumb, Jack raised it lightly to Ianto's lips. He expected Ianto to flinch away, but he didn't. He stayed there perfectly still, two natures fighting – the desire to live and the urge to cling to his morals. Running his thumb over Ianto's bottom lip, Jack could already tell which side was going to win.

It didn't take long for Ianto's mouth to open and for him to suck Jack's thumb inside. His tongue flicked over it, gently taking every last drop that he could. Around the digit, Jack could feel the vibrations as Ianto moaned low in his throat – and he braced himself for the moment that the bloodlust took over and he found himself being pinned down and used.

Ianto stayed gentle for now, though, as sensual as he was in all the other areas of their lives. His tongue moved gently and as he started softly sucking on that thumb, Jack began to think that Ianto should have been infected a long time ago. His arm hurt like hell, but this was good – unnaturally so, in a way that conjured up memories of the legends of vampires, the magnetism around them.

Damn good, though – and getting better as Ianto released the thumb from his mouth and focused his attention on the rest of Jack's arm instead. His eyes were dark, pupils enlarged, and it looked as if he wasn't human.

This really didn't present much of a problem for Jack, especially as Ianto's tongue started to lick a long and exploratory line up the inside of his wrist, tasting the blood that had dripped down there by now.

He worked methodically – of course he did, Jack realised hazily; this was Ianto – to lap up every spilt drop on Jack's arm, his tongue making Jack's skin tingle beneath it. Jack's eyes slipped closed, putting his trust completely in Ianto not to go too far. Ianto's grip on his arm was light, barely there.

Eyes closed he could just enjoy the sensation as Ianto's tongue moved over his arm, trailing indistinct patterns up and down as he cleaned it thoroughly of the blood Jack had lost. The bleeding from the cut on his arm had slowed by now, even if he'd still lost enough to make him pleasantly light-headed.

When Ianto's tongue reached the wound, he stopped and pulled back, causing Jack to blink his eyes open again. He'd been relaxing back against the couch, but now he had the unpleasant feeling that Ianto was about to start arguing with him again.

As he opened his eyes, though, Ianto didn't have a cool and resolved expression on his face. He looked a little healthier already, skin not half as pale, so this was working. However, he had an uncertain smile on his face as he watched Jack – Jack didn't think that was a good thing.

"You're enjoying this," Ianto said, sounding thoroughly amused.

Jack frowned at the accusation, but he didn't argue against it. He was pretty sure that Ianto was right about it, and that would… Well, that would make this a lot easier, until they could figure out a cure.

As Ianto brushed his lips over a spot of skin just below the cut, Jack smirked and looked down over Ianto's body – to the very prominent erection straining against his black trousers. "You're not exactly complaining either," he countered.

Ianto smiled and nodded, accepting that for once. One of his hands moved to hold the hand of Jack's uninjured arm, squeezing it tightly for a second. "This is going to be okay, isn't it?" he asked, and he sounded surprised by that.

Jack didn't answer for a second, because he wanted to promise Ianto more than just 'okay'. As Ianto's tongue lowered onto the very edge of his arm's cut, he took in a hissing breath as a vague murmur of pain started up. But he smiled slowly and closed his eyes again. "Yeah," he agreed "It's gonna be fine."

* * *

The following morning, with the vicious silence of the Hub surrounding him, Ianto wondered if he should've taken Jack's advice and stayed home that day. It wasn't really in his nature to take a day off and he'd already hidden at home yesterday, but from the second he'd walked in with Jack to find Gwen smiling sympathetically and Owen scowling at him, he wished he'd stayed away.

_You managed to get through it after Lisa_, he reminded himself. _You can do the same now_.

So he kept his head down and just got on with things; the occasional reassuring smile from Jack became the high-point of his day, the scraps that he clung to in order to get by, even if his eyes were continually drawn to the pristine white bandage on Jack's arm.

He hadn't been thinking clearly from the second Jack's thumb had touched his lips, and he really couldn't help but feel guilty about that despite Jack's repeated attempts to assure him that it was fine, that he was fine, that everything was just fine.

Every word out of Jack's mouth was a lie and fabrication, but last night… Even now, with the rest of the team's trust in him shaken, he couldn't help but smile when he remembered how last night had eventually ended.

That wistful smile still played on his face as he wandered through the Hub again, past Gwen's desk. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, only just hiding his eagerness to try and win back her trust again, to convince her that he wasn't a threat.

She only glanced up briefly.

She then stared bug-eyed at her desk and rearranged the files there. "No thanks, love," she mumbled – and he didn't think he'd ever heard her turn down an offer of coffee, even an indirect one. Fuck.

With his smile more forced now, he nodded as if it didn't matter then headed straight into the kitchen. While walking, he couldn't help noticing the way Owen's eyes tracked him around the Hub, as if convinced he was going to jump up and attack them all at any second.

* * *

Watching Ianto disappear into the Hub's kitchen, Owen gritted his teeth. He didn't get it, why that guy was still here, still with them, when he was clearly a danger. Jack had been killed once and it looked like his arm had also been thoroughly attacked last night too.

Jack might be immortal, but the rest of them weren't. Tosh wasn't. Gwen wasn't.

Most importantly, _he_ wasn't.

So the idea of some blood-sucking vampire – or blood-sucking alien-infested freak; whichever worked – running around with no restraint wasn't a pleasant one. Gwen was visibly shaken by it too, and though Tosh was hiding it better she still seemed worried. Whether it was concern for Ianto or herself, Owen didn't know and didn't especially care.

He was doing something about it. Ignoring the report he'd been slowly writing up about Ianto's original attacker so that they could finally put the body away for good (apparently, Gwen was grossed out by the fact that it had been lying on the autopsy table for over twenty-four hours now; she'd been complaining about it loudly for ages. Bloody whiner), Owen stood up from his desk and headed confidently over to Jack's office.

Jack glanced up as he entered, and stood from where he'd been sat behind his desk. The bandage that could be seen on his arm, beneath where his shirt-sleeves had been rolled up, quickly demanded Owen's attention. "Did he do that to you, then?" he asked straight away.

Jack folded his arms over his chest with only the faintest hint of a wince, but shook his head. "No. Did it to myself."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "For him though, right?"

Jack admitted to it reluctantly with a small nod. "Yeah."

"That's stupid." Owen couldn't think of a simpler way to put it than that, but his comment just got Jack to smile. "I mean it. That thing's dangerous."

"'That thing' is our friend."

"Your friend."

"_Our_ friend," Jack repeated. Owen snorted, and struggled not to remind Jack that he had a gun-shot shaped scar on his shoulder because of that guy. "He won't hurt anyone here, if that's what you're worried about. You're not in any danger."

"Need I remind you that he's actually killed you once already? The rest of us aren't just gonna spring back up like you did. If he's here, he should be locked up."

"He can't do his work if he's in a cage," Jack said, tiredly. "Learn to live with it, Owen. It won't be forever."

"You've got a plan?" Owen asked hopefully – about sodding time.

-- but Jack shrugged non-committally, and wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm working on it."

Owen snorted, and felt his hopes for an easy solution to this quickly crumble and die. Jack had faced these things before, it should've been simple; however, he got the impression that Jack's previous encounter with this invasive aliens hadn't ended too happily. "You don't have a clue what we're gonna do, do you?"

Jack sighed – he didn't shake his head, but he didn't defend himself either. Damn it. "Just get back to work, Owen. Finish up with that corpse before Gwen really starts nagging us. And just try to stay away from Ianto for the day. Alright?"

* * *

It was only five minutes later that Ianto felt Jack's arms slipping around him from behind, Jack's chin resting on his shoulder after he'd lightly kissed his neck for a moment.

"How're you doing?" he asked gently – he didn't sound worried, but Jack was usually good at hiding emotions like that. Annoyingly good, actually. Ianto usually wished that he could steal a little of that skill.

He had his own methods of coping, though. Taking a breath and pulling away from Jack, he nodded benignly. "Fine, sir."

He didn't have to turn around to know that Jack didn't believe him. Jack was smarter than that. That was another annoying aspect of him. Good at conning people, smart, stubborn, and reckless.

He moved over to the sink, telling himself that the abandoned dishes in there needed to be cleaned right now – dirty plates and cups, nothing important, nothing special, nothing that needed his attention for at least another hour or so, but washing up was so much better than dealing with Jack when he was in this mood.

As expected, though, Jack didn't back off or give in or anything or the sort. "I was wondering if you wanted to take the day off again?" Jack suggested, as casually as he possibly could.

A smirk found its way to Ianto's lips, as he started to fill the sink with water. "I'm not going to hide away," he said. If there was a legitimate reason to send him home, then he would of course follow orders. If that legitimate reason was simply that Owen kept glaring at him, then he was going to stay right where he was.

"I thought I'd come home at lunch too?" Jack suggested. That, at least, caused Ianto to look away from the sink and towards him, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'Home'? Jack shifted on the spot, looking almost uncomfortable for once. "Well. Come and see you," he said to quickly change the wording.

The slip-up still made Ianto smile, though, for reasons he decided not to study too in-depth, and he was quickly a lot more willing to take Jack's advice and return to his flat. "That could turn out to be interesting," he admitted levelly.

"_Very_ interesting," Jack confirmed, as he stepped forward – close enough to brush his hand over Ianto's hip for a split-second.

Ianto looked down to observe the contact, a small frown forming on his face when he was sure he should have been smiling. "You're sure about all this?" he asked, as he looked up again. "About me? I'm dangerous. I know Owen thinks so."

"Ignore Owen. I'm not getting into this with you again," Jack said; he sounded so wearied of this entire subject, his voice as stressed as it had been when he'd first reappeared from his trip with the Doctor, months ago. "Just go home, relax, and wait for me."

He kissed Ianto lightly on the nose then stepped away, his old grin back again. Walking away without a pause, he was half-way out the door before he called back, "And that's an order!"

For once, Ianto knew better than to argue.

* * *

Finally getting rid of this damn body in the mortuary – and _really_ trying not to breathe any more than he had to; with the aliens in the body, it was decomposing at an amazing rate – Owen couldn't wait for this day to be over.

It already was, for Ianto, and though Owen had been pushing to get him out of the Hub, he couldn't help but feel bitter that the _vampire_ got a day off when he still had to slave away here. "Unfair, that's what it is," he murmured, to no one.

The Hub was more or less empty at the moment, in any case. Jack was upstairs, tucked safely away in his office: Owen got the impression that he was planning on leaving early too. Tosh and Gwen had disappeared out to get lunch for them all – Owen was pretty sure that this was the first time in history that he was the only one of the team doing any actual work.

"'S all your fault, y'know," he said, looking down at the corpse. He wished someone else was down here with him. This place weirded him out, death clinging to the walls. "If you never showed up, none of this would've happened."

Taking a deep breath through his nose – and instantly wishing he hadn't, when the stench hit him – he reached to zip up the body bag and get this stupid case over with.

He barely managed to tug closed more than a few centimetres before the long-dead body grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip. The eyes of the corpse snapped open, blood-shot and much too wide, and looked leisurely around the room as Owen struggled to free his wrist, almost dislocating his shoulder in the process.

He didn't register the pain: when you've got a zombie in your mortuary – _zombie? Vampire? Whatever it is, it isn't natural_ – there are more important things to think about than getting injured.

Like getting killed for a start.

"_We rise_," the body said, in a voice that clunked and grated, sounding unnatural in that mouth.

The hand holding his wrist felt soft and moist, but it could still grip with the strength of nothing Owen had felt before. "Yeah? Good for you," he muttered back to it, before giving up on breaking his wrist free and instead trying an alternate technique – his other hand formed a fist and he punched this creature as hard as he could.

It barely reacted, even though his knuckles alone stung from the force. It simply blinked once and watched him. "Where is your leader?" it asked. "Jack. Where is he?"

"Right. Like I'm really gonna tell you." Owen was tempted, though, as the creature's grip tightened after that comment. He didn't have a plan, though, didn't have a gun, didn't have anything. Maybe sending it right to Jack's door would be a good idea? He'd probably know what to do with it.

But he didn't know what to do with Ianto – and seeing as this was Ianto's attacker, this corpse had the same aliens in its blood as their colleague did, Owen guessed that Jack wouldn't have a clue what to do with it either.

In other words, they were totally screwed. That was confirmed when the being dismissed him with a small snarl. "Useless."

Two seconds later, it delivered a punch in response Owen's; better technique, so much stronger, Owen lost consciousness before he'd even hit the ground.

The creature stepped onto the ground, dead body moving with complete ease, and licked its lips.

* * *

_It's time. _

We rise.

Now. 


End file.
